This was typed on Monday 1st of March - Saint David's Day
The jingoistic tie has created a more than satisfactory stir in the privileged young amongst whom I move. It is something which it is hard to be indifferent to and wearing it has allowed me to say “Bore da!” to my pupils. If I do nothing else I do sensitise them to the fact that the west of Britain contains another country!
A magazine was thrown on the table which had a leading article on “The Taste and Flavour of Catalonia”; it is good to see that the press follows the example set by the Sitges Wine Tasting Group yesterday with its grand array of wine and cheese from the region! Where we lead the rest inevitably follow!
I have now discovered the end of term is an interminable 26 days away. I have not had the courage to check how long the holidays are because I am sure that it would reduce me to tears. At least in the UK you can be assured of a full fortnight; here, because of the alluringly long summer break they can curtail breaks during the year with the explanation that we will get it all back later. Working in a system which does not have a half term, you realize just how important such breaks are and their lack makes the term stretch out like some sort of drawing in perspective where the lines seem to stretch for infinity and indeed beyond.
My mood is not helped by one of my colleagues singing “I will survive” in a broken voice tinged with despair as he totters from the staff room to his next class. We also have a colleague in the department away and the first choice in this place is for the department to cover its own – and I have a vulnerable period in our ridiculously long day.
I fear that the fact that I own a fabulous tie is not going to ameliorate the pain of losing a non contact period. It never does!
The loss of my voice to a deep sexy croak over the weekend has now developed into a hacking cough and a cut off point for reprimands which is well below the level needed to get young Catalans and assorted Iberians to do as you want.
The cough has now developed so that I am not feeling at my best. I resent the fact that my absence tomorrow would cause serious problems as the school makes no attempt to find supply teachers. All the burden is placed squarely on colleagues; and all the guilt is placed squarely on those who might be ill! I think that it is pernicious system for which the management of the institution must take responsibility. I do recognize that finding English speaking teachers who are prepared to do supply work is difficult, but that should not stop the place trying to find a group prepared to help. But apart from grumbling and feelings of resentment nothing concrete is done and there is no real process by which opinions can be officially transmitted to wherever the real executive power is situated!
Meanwhile on a more mundane level the exhibition of photographs in the mathematics competition have now been put up and the English department’s efforts look fairly good.
Part of the competition is decided on the caption chosen for each photograph.
Chris said that if there was a prize for the most pretentious caption that I would win hands down!
I was strangely gratified by such a commendation!
Tuesday 2nd March 2010
As usual bed rest and a shut-down of the system has produced its usual results, so that I feel relatively good today and resentfully have had to complete my teaching load without crying off and going home. My body has a lot to answer for in its efforts to keep me sickeningly close to the smaller members of the community seeking education!
More photographs have appeared in the Great Mathematics Photography Competition but I still think that Chris and I have a more than reasonable chance of keeping off foreign competition. Disturbingly we are still not clear about how the eventual winners emerge so we are asking cagy questions in an effort to find some transparency about the whole affair.
Another way of looking at this process was voiced by Chris, who said that we should recognize how appallingly empty our lives are if this is the most important event on the horizon! Rather defiantly I opined that I was looking at it from an anthropological point of view and seeking to discover new aspects of the way our institution operates by the way that this competition is judged. It’s what I do!
I was furious with two giggling girls in class yesterday and as part of the pantomime of my fury about such lèse majesté I slammed the door at their departure with such intensity that it echoed round Building 1. Unfortunately it also acted as a disincentive for a pair of prospective parents to deposit their child in a place where such barbarism could take place! Ah me!
On the plus side I have just been given a mixed selection of pepper corms.
I think that I could do without all spices and even salt as long as I was left a twist of freshly ground black pepper to use on my food. Considering the fantastic price that pepper used to fetch, weight for weight more than gold, I think that we should rejoice that it is now so cheap and use it with reckless abandon.
I am told that my ‘over’ use of this condiment is bad for my health and ruins the taste of the food – to which I reply that faint are they of heart that eschew the ‘black rain’ to make their lives less savoury. So there.
Finding loose pepper corms is somewhat difficult in this part of the world as all the shops seem to demand that you buy a one-use pepper grinder to get hold of them. Suzanne, however, has gone to her herbal shop and returned to school with the multi-coloured delights in a little plastic bag. I have been breathing in their heady aroma like some sick junkie as I wait for my next lesson and perhaps I should be a tad concerned that no one has taken the slighted notice of the black powder drugged bliss on my weary face!
Smelled through the plastic the aroma is reminiscent of very old leather bound books. But I would say something like that, wouldn’t I?
My reading has fallen off of late and the old horsemen of the Apocalypse are still trotting half ignored at my heels. I think that as it wasn’t the book that I expected it to be I have lost a certain amount of enthusiasm for it and I can’t really see a way in which it is going to claim my full attention. I live however, as always, in hope.
Toni is painting like a demon and has turned to representational art after two abstract canvases. His magnum opus continues to gather paint and the strangely stretched tree has now assumed more conventional proportions. The sky is also receiving treatment and layers of paint continue to be laid down like the sediment at the bottom of a lake being fed by a glacier. Well, there is a snow covered mountain in the paintings so I feel fully justified in the image!
My own work on the classification of the books has progressed not a jot and I feel almost guilty about it. I have looked for the Boris Vian book and, although I have found a play by him, the Penguin Modern Classic version of ‘Froth on the Day Dream’ continues to elude my eyes. Still, I have given myself until the middle of the summer to get things into some sort of order so there is still time for that odd little book to turn up.
And this evening to town again to renew my angst at the complete arrogance of The Worst Bank in the World for doing precisely nothing to refund the money that they have taken wrongly!
It is good to have a cause in life!
The jingoistic tie has created a more than satisfactory stir in the privileged young amongst whom I move. It is something which it is hard to be indifferent to and wearing it has allowed me to say “Bore da!” to my pupils. If I do nothing else I do sensitise them to the fact that the west of Britain contains another country!
A magazine was thrown on the table which had a leading article on “The Taste and Flavour of Catalonia”; it is good to see that the press follows the example set by the Sitges Wine Tasting Group yesterday with its grand array of wine and cheese from the region! Where we lead the rest inevitably follow!
I have now discovered the end of term is an interminable 26 days away. I have not had the courage to check how long the holidays are because I am sure that it would reduce me to tears. At least in the UK you can be assured of a full fortnight; here, because of the alluringly long summer break they can curtail breaks during the year with the explanation that we will get it all back later. Working in a system which does not have a half term, you realize just how important such breaks are and their lack makes the term stretch out like some sort of drawing in perspective where the lines seem to stretch for infinity and indeed beyond.
My mood is not helped by one of my colleagues singing “I will survive” in a broken voice tinged with despair as he totters from the staff room to his next class. We also have a colleague in the department away and the first choice in this place is for the department to cover its own – and I have a vulnerable period in our ridiculously long day.
I fear that the fact that I own a fabulous tie is not going to ameliorate the pain of losing a non contact period. It never does!
The loss of my voice to a deep sexy croak over the weekend has now developed into a hacking cough and a cut off point for reprimands which is well below the level needed to get young Catalans and assorted Iberians to do as you want.
The cough has now developed so that I am not feeling at my best. I resent the fact that my absence tomorrow would cause serious problems as the school makes no attempt to find supply teachers. All the burden is placed squarely on colleagues; and all the guilt is placed squarely on those who might be ill! I think that it is pernicious system for which the management of the institution must take responsibility. I do recognize that finding English speaking teachers who are prepared to do supply work is difficult, but that should not stop the place trying to find a group prepared to help. But apart from grumbling and feelings of resentment nothing concrete is done and there is no real process by which opinions can be officially transmitted to wherever the real executive power is situated!
Meanwhile on a more mundane level the exhibition of photographs in the mathematics competition have now been put up and the English department’s efforts look fairly good.
Part of the competition is decided on the caption chosen for each photograph.
Chris said that if there was a prize for the most pretentious caption that I would win hands down!
I was strangely gratified by such a commendation!
Tuesday 2nd March 2010
As usual bed rest and a shut-down of the system has produced its usual results, so that I feel relatively good today and resentfully have had to complete my teaching load without crying off and going home. My body has a lot to answer for in its efforts to keep me sickeningly close to the smaller members of the community seeking education!
More photographs have appeared in the Great Mathematics Photography Competition but I still think that Chris and I have a more than reasonable chance of keeping off foreign competition. Disturbingly we are still not clear about how the eventual winners emerge so we are asking cagy questions in an effort to find some transparency about the whole affair.
Another way of looking at this process was voiced by Chris, who said that we should recognize how appallingly empty our lives are if this is the most important event on the horizon! Rather defiantly I opined that I was looking at it from an anthropological point of view and seeking to discover new aspects of the way our institution operates by the way that this competition is judged. It’s what I do!
I was furious with two giggling girls in class yesterday and as part of the pantomime of my fury about such lèse majesté I slammed the door at their departure with such intensity that it echoed round Building 1. Unfortunately it also acted as a disincentive for a pair of prospective parents to deposit their child in a place where such barbarism could take place! Ah me!
On the plus side I have just been given a mixed selection of pepper corms.
I think that I could do without all spices and even salt as long as I was left a twist of freshly ground black pepper to use on my food. Considering the fantastic price that pepper used to fetch, weight for weight more than gold, I think that we should rejoice that it is now so cheap and use it with reckless abandon.
I am told that my ‘over’ use of this condiment is bad for my health and ruins the taste of the food – to which I reply that faint are they of heart that eschew the ‘black rain’ to make their lives less savoury. So there.
Finding loose pepper corms is somewhat difficult in this part of the world as all the shops seem to demand that you buy a one-use pepper grinder to get hold of them. Suzanne, however, has gone to her herbal shop and returned to school with the multi-coloured delights in a little plastic bag. I have been breathing in their heady aroma like some sick junkie as I wait for my next lesson and perhaps I should be a tad concerned that no one has taken the slighted notice of the black powder drugged bliss on my weary face!
Smelled through the plastic the aroma is reminiscent of very old leather bound books. But I would say something like that, wouldn’t I?
My reading has fallen off of late and the old horsemen of the Apocalypse are still trotting half ignored at my heels. I think that as it wasn’t the book that I expected it to be I have lost a certain amount of enthusiasm for it and I can’t really see a way in which it is going to claim my full attention. I live however, as always, in hope.
Toni is painting like a demon and has turned to representational art after two abstract canvases. His magnum opus continues to gather paint and the strangely stretched tree has now assumed more conventional proportions. The sky is also receiving treatment and layers of paint continue to be laid down like the sediment at the bottom of a lake being fed by a glacier. Well, there is a snow covered mountain in the paintings so I feel fully justified in the image!
My own work on the classification of the books has progressed not a jot and I feel almost guilty about it. I have looked for the Boris Vian book and, although I have found a play by him, the Penguin Modern Classic version of ‘Froth on the Day Dream’ continues to elude my eyes. Still, I have given myself until the middle of the summer to get things into some sort of order so there is still time for that odd little book to turn up.
And this evening to town again to renew my angst at the complete arrogance of The Worst Bank in the World for doing precisely nothing to refund the money that they have taken wrongly!
It is good to have a cause in life!
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